How empty the feeling
of standing under broken skies
when the moonlight beckons all those lonesome, home
Or how the baggies breach branches on the oak trees
on a park before town
where empty beer cans swivel in brilliant winds
and kids dare not go
for the guns come out in droves
- firing squad of the soul
Jan 14, 2015
Jan 14, 2015 at 1:45 PM UTC
How empty the feeling
of standing under broken skies
when the moonlight beckons all those lonesome, home
Or how the baggies breach branches on the oak trees
on a park before town
where empty beer cans swivel in brilliant winds
and kids dare not go
for the guns come out in droves
- firing squad of the soul
